In the dark alley of the Seven Dials Tanner had furnished Jack with another two addresses from the list. He then crossed the road and went into the pub, slipping through the wall of Mr Reeve’s office for his third day spying. The previous day had provided no further revelations and today, once again, much of the day’s business involved money lending and was conducted in a professional manner with an underlying threat of violence. Dubious behaviour no doubt, but nothing out of the ordinary and nothing about Jack.
Along with the usual debtors, Mr Reeve met and made deals with thieves, beggars, brothel-owners, swindlers, embezzlers and pickpockets. There appeared to be no criminal occupation so low or depraved in which he didn’t have some involvement. At midday there was a queue of people waiting in the bar to see him, but when a man with a pock-marked face entered, Mr Bazeley allowed him to walk straight in. A rake-thin young woman with mournful blue eyes who had been begging Mr Reeve for a loan went pale with fear when the man entered the room, and Mr Reeve quickly announced their business done with.
‘Detective Inspector Savage,’ said Mr Reeve. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘There’s no pleasure in this visit,’ replied Inspector Savage.
‘I’m sorry to hear that. What’s troubling you?’ asked Mr Reeve. ‘You do seem troubled.’
‘Murder, Mr Reeve. Bloody murder.’
‘The worst of all crimes, Savage.’
Inspector Savage tossed a newspaper onto Mr Reeve’s desk.
He picked it up, read the headline and snorted. ‘The Kitchen Killer?’ he said, raising an eyebrow.
‘Read it,’ said Inspector Savage.
‘I don’t appreciate being told what to do in my own place of work, you know that. Nor do I get my information from such unreliable sources as this.’
Inspector Savage scowled and offered no apology. ‘This man kills his victims by cutting their throats,’ he said.
‘I’d swear these newspapermen have a greater thirst for blood than the most scurrilous criminals,’ said Mr Reeve.
‘Heale was killed the same way.’
‘Yes.’ Mr Reeve met Inspector Savage’s gaze defiantly.
‘Heale’s murder was the work of this man, Jack Toop. Or so you told me.’
Tanner’s ears pricked up at the mention of Jack’s name.
‘That was what I heard,’ said Mr Reeve. ‘You’ve not found him, then? What more than a man’s name and address do you need to bring him to justice? Would you have me round him up and deliver him to the hangman for you?’ He spoke angrily.
‘I chased Jack Toop from that address myself. We lost him down Peckham Rye.’
‘Jack was always a good runner.’ Mr Reeve smiled fondly.
‘In Honor Oak I came across a shop with his name. An undertaker’s.’
Mr Reeve laughed. ‘Appropriate enough. Jack’s certainly buried a few people in his time.’
‘The proprietor was also a Toop, but he claimed to have no knowledge of him.’
‘What was this man’s Christian name?’
Inspector Savage pulled out a notebook and flicked it open. ‘His name was Charles Toop,’ he read aloud.
‘Charlie Toop,’ said Mr Reeve. ‘Now, there’s a name I haven’t heard in some time.’
‘You know him?’
‘Yes, I know him. That’s Jack’s brother.’
‘So he was lying.’
‘Yes. You searched the premises, I take it?’
‘You don’t need to tell me how to conduct my business,’ snarled Inspector Savage.
‘I thought that was exactly what I had to do,’ replied Mr Reeve.
‘Now, listen here. I only have your word that this Jack Toop even exists.’
‘Oh, Toop exists all right. And Charlie is his brother. It’s not me that’s lying to you.’
Inspector Savage leaned close and spoke quietly. ‘You’d better not be, Reeve.’
Reeve did not back down. ‘I’m not one of the common crooks you spend your days chasing,’ he said. ‘I’m paying you good money, Savage. More than the pittance you earn from the law. But that money can stop any time. As Heale’s death showed, no man is safe in this city. Now, I have given you Jack’s name. I suggest you find him, arrest him, lock him up, then hang him. Maybe he is your Kitchen Killer. Maybe not. My guess is not. Jack may be a killer, but he isn’t a mindless killer. As a gesture of good will I’ll put some feelers out for you, but if you’re serious about catching Jack you need to go back to Charlie’s shop and make him talk.’
‘You’re sure he knows something?’
‘I can tell you how to find out for sure . . .’
Tanner had stopped listening. He was hovering over Mr Reeve’s desk, reading the article. It listed the addresses where the bodies had been found. He didn’t need to check his list to know they were the ones he had given to Jack. This was Jack’s solution – not persuading ghosts, but creating them. Sam had been right. Tanner had put his lot in with a bad man and now terrible things were happening. People were being killed and it was Tanner’s fault. Tanner turned to Ether Dust and flew through the wall into the pub. So intense was his anger and guilt that he knocked a freshly poured pint of ale clean off the bar as he whooshed past, sending it smashing onto the wooden floor.